Blackest Night
by Pandora40
Summary: HermioneSnape: Hermione reflects on her relationship with Snape after the events in HBP. HBP compliant, DH not compliant. Please, please review!
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Blackest Night  
Author: Pandora  
Rating: NC17, eventually.  
Pairing: HG/SS. Don't like it? Don't read it.  
Disclaimer: they all belong to JKR.  
Spoilers: All are fair game, but especially HBP.  
Review: Please? Pretty, pretty please? Come on, guys. Don't make me beg.

The Blackest Night  
by Pandora

Hermione Granger sat on the edge of her bed in the empty Gryffindor girls' dormitory, sobs racking her slender body. How? How had it all gone so horribly, horribly wrong? And the worst of it was that she had never imagined. Never dreamed. Never _seen_. And why? Why had he not told her, not warned her? Even after everything she didn't believe that he could have done this voluntarily, so he must have had orders, but orders from whom? Dumbledore, or Voldemort? She hated herself for her own doubts. She knew Snape. She knew he wasn't like this. So why had he done it? The image of Dumbledore's crumpled body at the foot of that tower still burned in her vision every time she closed her eyes. Dumbledore was the strongest of them, the only one strong enough to protect her from Voldemort, but, weakened by that horrid stuff he'd drunk to get at a fake horcrux, a wasted effort anyway—that was the worst of it. The pain Harry had said he'd gone through—poor Dumbledore—and poor, haunted, traumatized Harry. Dumbledore was the father he'd never known. He was still upstairs, meeting with McGonagall and the others... Ron was downstairs, grief-stricken and alone, but Hermione could not face him. Not tonight. Not after--

The rest of her house was still downstairs in the common room, and would likely be there until morning, those that were not in the hospital wing, that is. Or... she forced herself away from the thought that her tortured mind could not face. She did not know which was harder to bear—Dumbledore's untimely death, or Snape's betrayal of them all when they needed him most. He could have saved them—and he had grabbed Draco Malfoy by the arm and run like a coward. _Why?_

The events of that night came flooding back, the Dark Mark in the air, Voldemort's Death Eaters in the grounds, the attempts on the lives of students that they knew now to be attempts on Dumbledore's life... his deliberate omission in keeping them out of it, protecting them from what was to come, she guessed, but in turn it had left them completely at a loss for what had transpired—and what in the world they were to do now. None of them knew the answers to that question—not even McGonagall. Tonight was the first night she had seen her head of house _cry_. But then—most people knew that she cared very deeply for the headmaster. Secretly, Hermione suspected she even loved him. As she, Hermione, had loved... someone else.

It had all begun in their fourth year. As she walked to the dorm window, looking out under the now blackened sky at the place where it had all happened, Hermione allowed herself to be transported back in time, to where it had all begun...

It had been the Yule Ball. Viktor Krum (who had later proven something of a dark git; she should have expected as much from the student of a death eater; and Durmstang _was_ known for it's focus on Dark Arts) had left her side, instantly cornered by a gaggle of hopeful girls in an attempt to get them both drinks, and Hermione found herself alone. Making her way to the side of the table she found herself next to a more-sour-than-usual Professor Severus Snape. She nodded in greeting and was watching for Viktor return when she realized that Snape was speaking to her. However, in the loud music and the chatter of the crowd her professor's words were lost to her.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, raising her voice to make herself heard. To her surprise Snape leaned over and spoke in her ear.

"Miss Granger, they are in need of another chaperone at the door. Would you kindly fill in until Madam Hooch returns?" He was very close to her. His breath against the soft flesh beneath her earlobe sent a warm, pleasant tingle of gentle electricity down her spine. Hermione stiffened, surprised at the thrill his closeness had sent through her and equally aware that Snape had noticed, judging by the faintest hint of a smirk on his closed, unreadable features. Definitely more sour than usual.

"Of course, Professor," she said, but doubted he had heard. With a nod to her he returned to the main entrance, where she knew he had been blasting apart rose bushes with his wand, telling people off for snogging and taking house points, even from his own students. Most decidedly more sour than usual. But then, he _was_ Snape. Feeling decidedly grouchy herself as she glanced at Viktor, who was still trying vainly to extract himself from the gaggle of girls, peering over at her above their heads looking as though he were hoping to be rescued, Hermione gratefully made for the door, where the harassed-looking witch who'd been trying to keep track of things looked extremely grateful for her offer of assistance and set her to work at once. Though it kept her mind from wandering to unpleasant places, Hermione didn't help noticing that the skin just below her earlobe was still tingling pleasantly... this was _Snape_. He was her teacher, and he most assuredly didn't feel anything for her. What on earth was the matter with her? With a few ridiculously mundane words whispered in her ear he had excited her more than being so close to Viktor Krum, held against him in his arms, had all evening...

sorry so short, but I'm doing a change of scene here and this seemed like the perfect place to end the intro... more to come!!


	2. Chapter 2

Part II

Disclaimers, etc., in part 1.  
Author's note: the flashback continues. I'll resolve the opener eventually! Don't worry... more to come.

The rest of that year had passed without incident... and then had come the summer at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Snape flitting in and out like a dark ghost, barely speaking. She suspected that he had often been there in the middle of the night when they were all sleeping—as much, probably, to avoid Sirius and perhaps Lupin as it was to be in and out quickly; most of the other members of the Order had no hesitation about at least staying for a cup of tea with Mrs. Weasley before returning to where ever it was they had been posted. Hermione enjoyed the days with Ron and Harry, but was surprised to find herself worrying about Snape; watching the door hopefully every time the bell rang, alerted, of course, by the shrieking of Mrs. Black's portrait and Molly stomping furiously down the stairs, muttering "I told them not to ring the bell! They'll wake everybody up!"

Hermione would slip from her room and watch until she'd seen the tall dark form she was looking for, and then, satisfied on some subconscious level that he was all right, she'd go back to bed and wait for Sirius to shut his mother up. She had never been noticed—though once, her professor's tired eyes had raised to hers and his gaze had softened for just a moment before he returned his usual cold look to Mrs. Weasley. Somehow that look in his eyes—almost grateful for her presence—had frightened her more than anything she'd seen yet, and it had taken her a long time to fall asleep again, and when she did the sky was beginning to lighten with the advent of a new day. The meeting downstairs was still going on, and the murmur of voices, though indistinguishable thanks to the charm on the door, was still faintly audible through the ancient floorboards if nothing else, and the sheer length of the meeting didn't help Hermione any.

She was wakened by a soft knock on the door and it creaked open. Grumpily she opened one eye and frowned at the intruder—it was Ginny, with a breakfast tray.

"Hi. Mum was worried when you didn't come down," her friend greeted. "It's nearly lunchtime, you know."

"I didn't sleep well," she evaded. "I kept hearing the doorbell."

"I know," Ginny said sympathetically. "Cause the rest of us did too—woke Mrs. Black up every time."

"Are any of them still here?"

"All of them are. Fred and George are trying to use extendable ears to eavesdrop on the meeting. Dumbledore arrived an hour ago."

"So it's serious, whatever it is."

"Very," Ginny agreed as Hermione picked up the toast and took a mechanical bite. She wasn't hungry, but her friend would wonder if she didn't eat. So _he_ was still here. Snape.

"You okay?" Ginny had been watching her friend intently, and seen something of the concern in Hermione's eyes.

"Just worried about them," she said with an effort at lightness that didn't really work. Ginny eyed her skeptically, but her unspoken question was delayed by the arrival of Ron, Harry, and the Twins.

"Mum must've put a spell on the door. Can't pick up a thing," George groused.

"Nothing," agreed Fred.

"Well what do you expect? There's reasons we're not allowed in there," Ginny huffed. Hermione fell back from the conversation as Harry and Ron plopped down on the bed on either side of her, arguing about Quidditch. She longed to go downstairs. She picked at her breakfast. What on earth was wrong with her? This was Snape she was so worried about. So what if the "greasy-haired git" as Ron liked to call him got himself killed? Her stomach churned at the very idea and she pushed her almost-untouched tray away, where it was quickly rescued before it hit the floor by Ron, who proceed to finish her sausages.

"Ron!" Ginny scolded.

"It's okay, Gin. I'm not that hungry," Hermione assured her. "If you lot don't mind?" she pointed at the door and her friends left the room so she could get up and dress.

Hermione was in the hall reaching for her jacket when a rough hand brushed against hers, retrieving a travelling cloak.

"Sorry, Professor," she said, aware that her cheeks were turning bright red as pleasant warmth traveled up her arm. Snape too looked uncomfortable, and he was eying her hand as though it might bite him as she donned her jacket. The day was cool and rainy, and Mrs. Weasley, uprooted from her vast garden at the Burrow, had some work for them to do in the makeshift, closed-in yard Dumbledore had magicked up for her. Something about weeding potatoes. Fun. Hermione rolled her eyes—she didn't mind helping, especially since there wasn't much else to do, but she didn't mind lingering in the hallway a moment longer, even with Snape. "How... how was the meeting?" she asked. It was tentative—a feeler. She didn't really expect him to reply, but he turned his attention to her, her black eyes boring into hers for a moment as he considered her honest question. They were alone in the hall, Molly in the kitchen serving tea to those who had not left already.

"Insufferably long," he confessed at last, fatigue evident in his voice.

"I'm sure Mrs. Weasley wouldn't mind if you wanted to rest a bit, the rooms upstairs--" she encouraged.

"I can rest when I return to Hogwarts. I must brew some potions for them that will take some time." He glanced at her for a moment, and then as though remembering himself and who _she_ was he donned his cloak and strode through the door without another word. Hermione sighed—for a moment there, Snape had seemed almost human. She zippered her jacket and slipped out to join the others.

"What kept you?" Ginny asked, pulling up a gnome. Weeding potatoes, indeed. She wanted her garden de-gnomed, and it had to be a worse infestation here than there was at the Burrow.

"Snape was just leaving," she answered truthfully, hoping the excitement she still felt from even this brief contact didn't show. Harry and Ron weren't even looking at her, they were busy sending gnomes flying, and Fred and George were arguing Quidditch tactics to use against Malfoy, a discussion to which Harry and Ron eagerly joined in. Rolling her eyes, Ginny studied Hermione as her friend setted to work in silence. Her eyes were bright and she seemed—happier than she had at breakfast, somehow. Intriguing. Ginny sent her gnome flying and settled into pensive silence with her friend next to her. She was curious to see what would become of this.


	3. Chapter 3

Part III

Disclaimers, etc. in part 1.  
A/N: this is starting to sound like several other fics I've read. I hope I'm making it enough my own that it is not aping anyone else's story—if it is, I mean it only in the highest praise, I assure you! No offense met to anyone. It seems to be generally accepted in most fics that Hermione has some healing ability... so I've used that—as for the rest—well, I have to get them together somehow, don't I? grin still in progress.

Five days later, she was awakened in the middle of the night by the gentle shaking of an urgent Mrs. Weasley, who held a candle lantern in one hand and looked deeply concerned.

"Hermione." The concern in the Weasley clan's matron was palpable and Hermione came instantly out of the cloud of sleep, dreams full of dark images and mild pain.

"What's going on?" she asked softly. She heard the clock in the hall chime twice. It was two in the morning.

"We need you downstairs." Mrs. Weasley departed and Hermione rose, donned her robe, and followed. She was led into the living room where she was appalled by the sight of Snape, clearly badly injured, lying on the sofa. In the flickering candlelight of the lantern she could see darker blotches staining his shirt and her stomach turned. She reached into her pocket for the wand she always kept there and went to him at one, no further questions asked.

"Poppy is on her way," Molly said, her voice taught with fear. "I'm not sure he has that long. It must have taken all his strength just to come here."

Hermione's stomach churned. That Molly had called on her, an untrained and unqualified witch, that she was clearly unable to do anything more for Snape on her own spoke volumes of just how worried she was. All other thoughts aside, Hermione moved forward with determination, Molly whimpering a little behind her. Molly had taken off Severus's outer cloak, leaving him clad in a Muggle shirt and jeans. Carefully undoing the buttons of the shirt, Hermione forced images from her mind of how wrong this was for her to be doing this, but Molly was clearly frozen and there was no one else in the house even remotely qualified. Hermione had at times assisted Madam Pomfrey when she was able – and had time – but never for anything this serious. As she pushed the folds of the shirt away she gasped in horror at the seriousness of his injuries.

"Molly, could you get me a hot, clean cloth and some really hot water, please?" she asked, and, clearly grateful for something simple to do, Mrs. Weasley left the room, leaving her alone with a clearly dying Severus. Using her wand she began to gently siphon off the blood—but he was still bleeding. Too much. _Hurry, Madam Pomfrey_, she pleaded silently. Molly returned at once with the requested items, and a stack of clean towels. Grateful for her insight that she might need more than one, Hermione set back to work. Carefully, gently, she used the spell Madam Pomfrey had taught her to begin to heal the wounds. There was a bright green flash in the fireplace and Madam Pomfrey stepped out, dusting soot off on the hearth. Hermione barely looked up from her ministrations, just enough to give the Hogwarts matron a grateful smile. Madam Pomfrey at once shoved Hermione unceremoniously out of the way and checked her progress.

"I couldn't have done better myself, but I can take over from here, child," Madam Pomfrey said, and Hermione reddened at the high praise. Molly beamed at her. "You may have saved his life tonight, girl," Madam Pomfrey added.

"Madam Pomfrey, could I... could I stay? Just in case you need anything. Please?" it was this last that made the older woman look up, and at length her gaze softened and she nodded, seeing the hope in Hermione's eyes, and the fear.

"Of course, child. I expect he'll need the support," she said gently.

Mrs. Weasley steered her into the kitchen, where Madam Pomfrey's voice could reach them easily, and forced a cup of hot strong tea into her hands, sugar and cream added to it. Hermione sipped gratefully, then glanced down at her robe and realized she was still covered with Professor Snape's blood. She blanched, and then quickly took off the robe, setting the teacup aside, the tears suddenly coming hard and fast. Mrs. Weasley gathered her into her arms and held her, for a very long time, before her tears subsided and she settled back into her chair nearest the door, picking up her tea again.

At last Madam Pomfrey came out of the living room and into the kitchen, looking tired and worried.

"I've done all I can for him," she said softly. "I've given him some strong healing potion. It'll be up to him now. Go sit with him, child. He needs you now." Hermione tried not to dwell on the matron's last statement as she returned to the living room, carrying her teacup (which had magically refilled itself) and sank into a chair Madam Pomfrey had moved next to the sofa, where Severus was covered with a blanket now. All the bloodstained clothes had been removed and he was dressed in a hospital gown that Hermione could only assume Madam Pomfrey had with her in her medical kit. His face, she could tell in the dying light from Molly's long-forgotten candle lantern, was as pale as death. She took his hand, knowing he'd tell her off at once if he was awake.

"Don't go," she murmured softly. "Please, just don't go." She felt the tears threatening to overwhelm her again, and she laid her forehead on his shoulder, her hand still clasping his, where she silently cried.

* * *

In the kitchen, Poppy sipped the tea and regarded Molly thoughtfully.

"Did you feel it?" she asked at last.

"Her despair? Yes."

"I think she loves him. She just doesn't know it, yet."

"Nor does he," Molly agreed. "But if he doesn't, he soon will." The two women lapsed back into silence, broken only by the chiming of the old grandfather's clock in the hall upstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

Part IV  
The Very Long Night of Severus Snape

A/N: Yes, if any of you are B5 fans, that's my nod to JMS's brilliance... meaning, of course, "The Very Long Night of Londo Mollari." It just seemed to fit. So, that bit belongs to JMS. I borrowed the Dickens part from a scene in an episode of "The Pretender." Other disclaimers, etc. in part 1... more of the story to come, o'course.

The sky was long since light when she heard Ron's and Ginny's voices from the stairs, arguing. Mrs. Weasley had chased her upstairs around five, for a shower and change, and then made her swear she'd try to eat some breakfast when she came back down, but Hermione hadn't managed more than a piece of toast and jam. It had been enough to satisfy Molly, though, who had gently sent her back into the living room, promising that she'd make excuses to Ron and Harry for as long as possible and chase them out into the garden to continue the de-gnoming and keep them occupied. Hermione had thanked her gratefully and continued her vigil at Severus's side, holding his hand... clad now not in a revealing and blood-stained nightgown, but in muggle jeans and a T-shirt, her long bushy hair, closer to being tamed the older she got, held back out of her face in a ponytail tied at the base of her neck. She tried to focus her thoughts, to organize her confused mind in her usual systematic way and found it lacking. She didn't begin to understand why she was here—it was just that suddenly, seeing him so fragile and vulnerable had drawn her to him in a way she couldn't explain. What was—_was_. Madam Pomfrey said if he made it through the day, and night, he was out of danger. So she continued her vigil at his side.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey came in regularly to check on him, and instructed Hermione how to give him a fresh dose of healing potion every hour. Hermione accepted the task, and Molly came in, in the hours just before dawn, with her school bag, retrieved from her trunk.

"Read to him, Hermione," she suggested. "It might help. Your voice might anchor him," she said, withdrawing again and leaving Hermione to her vigil. Grateful to her, Hermione searched through her bag, looking for something suitable to read to him. Her Ancient Runes text would put any but a very select few to sleep, and she suspected Snape already knew the material, so that would hardly do... she rifled through her other books, and was debating pulling out _Advanced Potion-Making_ when she noticed a small volume tucked away in one corner of her bag. Dickens. Pulling out the familiar dog-eared novel she frowned. How had it gotten there? She didn't remember packing it in the brief weeks she'd been at home... didn't even remember pulling it out to read, but she had, and had tucked it into her bag to take back to school. She opened the book and began to read.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair..." Hermione broke off from the familiar text, her heart lurching as she realized how very like the age that Dickens described was to the age they were in now... silently, she took a breath to steel herself and continued reading, not noticing that the sun was bright outside and she could hear the laughter of her friends coming from the garden.

"'Mione?" the soft voice from the doorway, made Hermione jump guiltily and yank her hand away from Severus's, glancing up to see Ginny's slender form, her eyes bright and her cheeks red from running outside. "Oh!" Her gaze fell on the unconscious Snape lying on the sofa. "I didn't... Mum said you were in here but she didn't mention... I'm sorry," Ginny looked flustered. "I... wondered if you wanted to play three-a-side Quidditch, but I guess not?"

"Sorry, Gin," she said. "Maybe you and Harry against the Twins and Ron as Keeper?" she suggested. Ginny nodded.

"Right. Is he--"

"Madam Pomfrey says we'll know by morning," she said. Ginny nodded, looking sad, but ran off anyway. Hermione supposed she could hardly blame her, she thought as she waved her wand at the door and it closed again, and then she took Snape's hand again and picked up where she had left off in the story.

"Hermione?" the voice that came from the doorway two hours later took her completely by surprise; she'd been so engrossed in the familiar story that she had not even heard the door open. She looked up to see Remus Lupin standing there, insurmountably familiar comfortable in his shabby jacket, looking concerned. "How is he?"

"The same," she confessed. "Remus, what... what happened to him? Who did this?"

"We can only assume Voldemort tortured him. I only pray it wasn't... you know, Greyback," he said nervously. She nodded, understanding. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"Well, about Greyback—the wounds were too clean for it to be a werewolf attack," she said to reassure him, and he visibly sighed with relief.

"Well, there's that, at least. But you didn't answer my question.

"I... I'm not sure. I don't even know what I'm doing here, Remus. He's..."

"Someone you care about," Remus prompted softly when she broke off. "Understandable—you've only known the man for five years, after all. That's a hell of a long time, 'Mione," he said.

"But he's... well, he's _Snape_. I don't _want_ to care about him."

"I know." Lupin smiled, putting a hand of comfort on her shoulder. He was surprised just how very tense she was. He pulled her into his arms, then, and Hermione was surprised as another flood of tears started and she cried again.

"By Merlin, I'm sorry," she said when it stopped.

"Don't be. You're worried about him, Hermione. I understand," he said, feeling a ridiculous but brief surge of envy for Snape. He hoped the other man realized if... _when_ he woke up... how lucky he was to have the love and devotion of this beautiful, intelligent, young woman. He thought of Tonks, and sighed... and he hoped that Snape knew well enough to take the chance offered him... but knowing Snape, he wouldn't. Of course. Making a mental note to speak to Dumbledore, Lupin hugged Hermione once again, cursing the werewolf not for the first time, and quietly retreated, leaving her once again alone to her vigil. As he pulled the doors shut once again, he heard the familiar words of Dickens as she resumed reading.


	5. Chapter 5

Part V

It was nearing dawn the next day when Severus awoke, feeling as though he'd been trampled by a great many large things, but nonetheless alive. As he'd swam in and out of consciousness he had been aware of a soft, welcome voice reading to him. Dickens-- _A Tale of Two Cities,_ it was. He moved his hand, and found it was clasped tightly by another. Soft. Warm. Welcome. He gingerly opened one eye in the next room and found to his surprise that Hermione Granger was asleep next to him, her head resting next to his shoulder, exhaustion evident in her young face. Had she been here since he arrived? He wondered. Warm and welcome, her very presence seemed to strengthen him. In spite of himself he felt his hand tighten around hers, reaching out to brush her long hair out of her eyes. She _was_ beautiful, Severus realized with a start. It was a surprise to him that she, of all people, was the one who was here next to him as he woke. He would not have been surprised to wake alone—but with Hermione next to him...

_Down, boy,_ he commanded himself. _This is your student, she's off-limits_. Severus was mentally chiding himself when she stirred. Guiltily he lowered his hand, as she raised her head to look at him through eyes still clouded by sleep and exhaustion.

"Professor!" Realizing he was awake, Hermione quickly summoned Madam Pomfrey, who shooed Hermione upstairs for sleep and promised she'd call her at once if anything changed. Mrs. Weasley backed her up, and she glanced regretfully at Snape—but he squeezed her hand gently before releasing her.

"Go, Miss Granger. I shall be quite all right, I assure you." His tone lacked the sarcasm he had been aiming for—the knowledge that she'd been here next to him had disarmed him and it came out gentle and honest. Looking at him for a moment, Hermione nodded and retreated from the living room.

"'Mione?" a voice asked softly at the top of the stairs. Ron had been awakened by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. "Where've you been all day?"

"Working on something," she evaded, silently grateful to Ginny that her friend had not, apparently, told the others where she'd been. "If you don't mind, I'd like some sleep." Ron nodded and withdrew into his room, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that Ron was too tired to really notice. Going into her own room she didn't even bother to change—but fell into the bed still fully dressed, pulled the comforter over herself and was in minutes asleep. He was going to be all right. 

She woke from a deep haze of sleep as the door flew open and Ginny came into the room with a tray, much like – no, not yesterday, she realized, but the last time she'd eaten anything really substantial, and even then—her somach rumbled as she realized just how very hungry she was and she accepted the tray gratefully.

"You okay?" Ginny asked softly. Hermione nodded.

"Now. How is he?" she asked automatically. Ginny glanced at her in surprise.

"Why do you care so much, anyway? He's _Snape_."

"I know," Hermione admitted. "But I never want to see him like I saw him two nights ago," she confessed, the horror of his injuries swimming back to the foreground. Her stomach churned but she forced herself to continue eating, knowing that it had been a while. She wouldn't be much good to anyone if she didn't keep her strength up, least of all, Snape.

"Are you going to sit with him today? Mum says Madam Pomfrey is making him stay here until she's sure he's all right, but they're moving him into a room where he'll be more comfortable."

Hermione nodded; the sofa was about six inches too short for him; he could hardly rest comfortably without being to shift to accommodate still-tender bruises.

"He won't be very happy about it," she said, surprised at how tender her voice sounded. Ginny noticed, too, and raised an eyebrow.

"He isn't. Mum says he's been a bear all morning."

"That figures. He's... feeling helpless. I don't think he likes being waited on, especially..."

"Especially by us," Ginny finished for her, and Hermione nodded, turning her attention to her plate as Harry, Ron, and the twins came in.

"Morning, 'Mione," Harry said, coming to wrap his arms around Ginny, who rolled her eyes.

"About time you lot rolled out of bed. Some of us were up with the dawn patrol," she said. Harry yawned pointedly, and she gave him such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare that Hermione wasn't surprised when the Twins looked at each other pointedly.

"You know, Freddo, I think we ought to be working on... you know. Stuff. Come on."

"Expect to hear explosions in a few minutes," Ginny warned her as Hermione was sipping the strong tea Molly had made her, feeling it flow through her veins like some kind of elixir of life.

"I think now's a good time for a shower and then to head downstairs," Hermione agreed.

"Mum says to go ahead in there and she'll bring you both some coffee, but she thought the tea would help more, first," Ginny said softly, as Harry and Ron left the room, deep in discussions of Quidditch tactics... Hermione got the distinct impression they were going to go looking for a game of wizard's chess. Ginny took Hermione's now-empty tray and headed downstairs, leaving Hermione alone with her very confused thoughts.

Twenty minutes later, she carried a tray into the living room, where Snape had been propped up by pillows and covered with blankets. He was reading her copy of the Dickens novel, a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"Hi," she said uncertainly. "I brought food."

"Hermione." For the first time there was warmth in his voice when he said her name, and she was surprised. "I... hear you may have saved my life. Thank you for that," he said quietly. "And... for staying here with me. Most would not have." There was such a forlorn, lonely sound in his voice as she sank into the chair next to him, setting the tray on his lap as he put the book aside, that she ached for him. He reached at once for the coffee, ignoring the food.

"I'm not most people," she said quietly. "And you're welcome." His hand was shaking. She noticed it at once as he raised the cup to his lips, taking a sip, he glowered at it as if it had betrayed him. "Maybe I can help--" she offered.

"Miss Granger, I am quite capable of feeding myself," he announced dryly, reaching for his fork.

"Right." Hermione drew away, but remained stubbornly in her chair, convinced that his temper was not so much directed at her as it was at the world in general; he was feeling weak and it annoyed him. She understood, and she refused to be intimidated. He ate in silence and at last she took the empty tray from him, refilling his coffee cup with her wand. He thanked her—albeit grudgingly. Bear indeed. Of course, his animosity towards her could simply be a sign of his feeling more normal, too, she thought regretfully.

Quickly administering the dose of healing potion, Hermione carried the empty tray into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was drinking tea with Tonks.

"Wotcher, Hermione," she greeted.

"Hi, Tonks."

"How is he?"

"Miserable, grouchy, and thoroughly Snape," she confessed. "I think he'll be fine." Mrs. Weasley smiled at that.

"He has you to thank for it."

"I didn't do anything Madam Pomfrey couldn't have," Hermione observed matter-of-factly.

"No, but you still did it for _him_," Mrs. Weasley pointed out. Hermione fell quiet and returned to the living room, only to find that Snape had resumed reading the book.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked, though his voice didn't hold it's usual coldness.

"I wondered... if you'd like some company," she said quietly. Snape glanced at her over the glasses, surprised at her offer. Though his first instinct was to refuse, and he knew as her teacher he probably should, the offer was innocent enough, and a little timid at that. Good. He still made her nervous. He shrugged in a suit-yourself fashion, indicating the empty chair next to him. With a smile Hermione returned to it at once, pulling a book out of her school bag. Snape glanced at her and smirked, but she missed it. They sat together in silence, but the silence was surprisingly amiable, as they read. She could get used to this, she realized. She could even come to enjoy this.


	6. Chapter 6

Part VI  
A/N – thanks to all who've reviewed already!! It really does encourage me to keep writing! My apologies for glossing over the fifth year a lot, however, I'm not quite as familiar with book 5 as some of the others, and you all know what happens during that year anyway! More to come later...  
Disclaimers, etc. in part 1

She came into his room early the next morning to find him standing there in his full black wizard's robes, fastening his traveling cloak. She caught her breath – after two, almost three days of seeing him lying propped up by pillows she realized she'd nearly forgotten how tall he was. The color had returned to his face and he looked strong... but she knew he could not be feeling a hundred per cent yet; not when Harry had spent a week in the hospital wing just from Quidditch injuries.

"Miss Granger," he greeted, though his voice, as it had all day yesterday, was warmer than was customary.

"You're... leaving?" she asked before she could stop herself. The corner of Snape's mouth curled upward in his usual smirk.

"I do have other business, Miss Granger."

"But... Madam Pomfrey--"

"Has announced me perfectly fit to return to Hogwarts this morning," he told her. He studied her for a moment, and his gaze softened minutely. "Hermione... I wish to thank you again. I... do not think I'd have recovered so quickly were it not for your aid."

"I... you're welcome," she said softly. She had enjoyed his company and she was surprisingly devastated that he'd be leaving so quickly. With a final nod to her he strode to the fireplace, grabbed a handfull of Floo powder, and stepped into it.

"Hogwarts!" he commanded, and vanished at once in a flash of green flames.

"Hermione?" Madam Pomfrey stood in the doorway. "He's gone?"

"Yes. He said you released him."

"So I did, but I'd have preferred to have him stay another day or two," she groused. "But, Snape will be Snape," she added, rolling her eyes. Hermione nodded and returned to the kitchen, making for the coffee pot.

The rest of the summer had passed and she had not seen him. He was his usual menacing self in Potions, and Hermione found herself so busy she had not had much chance to talk to him, and with Umbridge swooping around, Hermione had not dared to try to approach him. Until one particularly nasty Potions class, and Neville was a disaster waiting to happen. This particular potion was particularly volatile, and being in an especially vindictive mood lately, Snape had been watching Neville with a menacing glare in his eyes.

"Help," Neville begged Hermione the second that Snape was out of earshot. Taking pity on him, Hermione began softly muttering the instructions out of the corner of her mouth. Snape, being Snape, swooped down on their table like... well, an overgrown bat.

"Miss Granger. Kindly refrain from whispering instructions in Mr. Longbottom's ear. If he's still so completely hopeless at this level, he's not going to pass his O.W.L. anyway, and your help will only make his incompetence worse. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and perhaps a detention this evening will teach you to stop your infernal interference," Snape snapped. Hermione, suddenly and shamefully near tears, returned to her own work. Neville's potion had been completed, and her own nearly so. As she carefully added bats' wings to her simmering cauldron, she stirred it according to the instructions, and the potion, which was supposed to be a bright lime green, turned--

"Yellow? _Yellow?_ Miss Granger, I expected better of you than this. Did I not specifically instruct that only a dash of the ground bats' wings was necessary? A further ten points from Gryffindor, and kindly rid your cauldron of this... useless slop. Evanesco!" The contents of her cauldron vanished at once, and Hermione, conscious of the stares of the rest of the class and the snickering Slytherins, wanted to crawl under her desk and hide. Her face was hot and she knew she must be beet red as she glared at Snape.

As the rest of the class bottled and labeled their potions, Hermione sullenly packed up her books, her eyes burning with tears.

"Kindly stay behind, Miss Granger, we need to arrange your detention," Snape said. The rest of the class filed out, but Hermione remained at her desk. Snape strode over to her, his expression softer as soon as the door had closed behind Harry and Ron, who were the last ones out.

"Forgive my harshness, Miss Granger," he said, his voice softer. "It was my upsetting you in the first place that made you add too much of the bats' wings. I have no doubt, given your talents, that you would have been able to correct the mistake, given enough time to do so. It was... merely an excuse to have the chance to speak to you. I... require your aid," he said at last. She looked up at him, surprised at both the compliment and the last statement. _He_ needed her help? Whatever for?

"With all of the extra work for the Order, I find my materials in something of a shambles. Since you are familiar with my store room from your second year--" she didn't bother to ask how she knew -- "you will assist me with organizing them. Tonight, eight o'clock," he said. "I will explain the rest, then."

"Yes, Professor," she said at once, gathering her bag and hurrying out, the hurt and humiliation gone, comforted by the warmth in his voice, the misery had been replaced by curiosity.


	7. Chapter 7

Part VII

A/N: My apologies for a few errors I've noticed in re-reading through it; a few words left out and typos, some grammatical stuff. Minor, but the kind of things that bug me when I read. I'll fix it eventually, but I wanted to finish. Also sorry it's taken me a while to post this next bit, but that's the problem with real-life getting in the way ;) -- I've got some major projects due in the next week so I'll try to post as often as I can, but it might take a while to get something up. Thanks again to all who've reviewed! More to come.

Disclaimers, etc. in part 1.

Part VII  
Detention with Snape

Just before eight that evening, Hermione managed to convince Harry and Ron that she'd be fine, and left the Common Room for the dungeons. The Potions classroom was dark and empty but a single torch ignited by the door to Snape's office as she entered. She knocked tentatively on the open door.

"Enter," came the gruff reply. She did. Snape was sitting behind his desk, of course, a stack of essays in front of him, ready to be graded. "Ah, Miss Granger." He waved at the chair across from him. A cauldron was set up, bubbling gently. She peered into it.

"Healing potion?" she guessed. The liquid inside was a vivid, glorious red. He nodded.

"Yes. Miss Granger—in light of my duties to the Order of the Phoenix becoming more involved, my absences from my station here are becoming more, and longer. In some cases I am... unavoidably detained. I... took the opportunity to have you come here tonight because I wish to ask for your assistance. The Order is in need of a large quantity of healing potion... it is an advanced spell, there aren't many students up to making it. However; having accomplished a perfect Polyjuice potion in your second year here I have little doubt that you will succeed at this as well." Hermione felt herself redden at the sudden and unexpected praise, as he continued. "Should you be able to accomplish this, as I am in little doubt that you will, I may ask your assistance on other matters as well, if you are willing."

"I... of course, Professor! Thank you," she said, dropping her gaze from his.

"Very well. Assuming, of course, that you can decipher my handwriting, here are the instructions." Opening a cabinet he instantly set up a cauldron for her, ready to begin. Hermione studied the familiar cramped writing carefully. The potion was, as he'd said, extremely complex—but no more so than that of polyjuice potion. How he knew, she wasn't about to try to understand. Dumbledore doubtless knew, and had no doubt informed Snape of exactly whom had raided his private stores.

Going to the shelf on the wall, she found what she needed and set quietly to work. The silence was amiable, broken only by the scratching of his quill as he graded essays.

"Ridiculous," he muttered after one. "Seventh year indeed. You handed in better content in your first essay for me, Miss Granger," he said absently as he scribbled a spiky black "T" in the corner. Troll—the worst possible grade. Hermione felt sorry for the seventh-year whose essay it had been. She had always achieved E or higher, even for Snape.

"Thank you, Sir," she murmured softly, carefully stirring her potion counter-clockwise, per the instructions.

It was nearly two in the morning when Snape glanced at the clock on the wall and gave a startled exclamation of surprise.

"Miss Granger, it is well past your curfew and I will tolerate no lateness in Potions first thing," he stated matter-of-factly. He came over to check on her progress, where she had been watching the potion simmer for the past twenty minutes, her part of the assignment complete.

"Well done. Very well done indeed. Five points to Gryffindor." Had _Snape_ just awarded Gryffindor points? Hermione blinked at him, wondering for just a moment if he wasn't a death eater using polyjuice potion, and what he'd done with Snape. But then, she could see the pride shining in his black eyes—pride he'd never before allowed her to see. Well, perhaps his latest brush with death had softened him a little towards her—in private, at least. Hermione nodded, realizing that she was suddenly feeling very tired.

"Come. It won't do to have Filch discover you wandering alone about the castle at night. I'll take you as far as Gryffindor tower." Snape placed one hand in the small of her back, guiding her towards the door with just enough pressure that left no room for argument. They walked together through deserted corridors—anyone sane was in bed, and that left Snape and Filch. And, of course, Umbridge.

_I heard that,_ Snape's voice was suddenly in her mind. Occlumency. She'd forgotten. Harry had not begun his lessons yet. She smiled at him sweetly.

"Heard what, Professor?" she said. "I didn't say anything—out loud."

"No, I suppose you didn't," he agreed. "One day, perhaps, I'll teach you to block me, if you like," he said softly. She glanced up at him. Was he serious? One look at his expression told her that he was.

"I would," she confessed. He glanced at her, his customary smirk replacing the briefest moment of warmth in his features as he looked at her.

"I would ask that you come to my office at the same time tomorrow," Snape told her. "To complete the next assignment," he said. She nodded.

"I'll be there."

"Good." Snape stopped, and she realized they had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was snoring, but Hermione didn't believe for a second that she was asleep. "I shall leave you here, then. Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night, Professor." She turned to the Fat Lady. "Osbodikins," she said softly, and grumbling under her breath about being woken up all the time the portrait swung open to admit her. As she had expected, Harry and Ron had given up waiting and gone to bed. Smiling to herself, she climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, reflective. Who knew? Snape was human after all. Beneath the stern professor's exterior lay a man Hermione found herself anxious to know better. Brilliant, warm, humorous (in a dry, sarcastic sort of way) and completely absorbed by the job he loved so much. And Snape, at that. Hermione changed quickly and crawled under the covers, and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her last conscious thought was to wonder what kind of potion he'd have her make tomorrow, and what, if anything, she should tell the others.


	8. Chapter 8

Part VIII  
Disclaimers, etc. in part 1. More to come!!

"What happened to you last night? When you weren't back by curfew we went to bed," Ron complained at breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning. Hermione sighed, glancing at Ginny.

"It took me a while to complete Snape's assignment," she said truthfully.

"That lousy git," Ron grumbled, viciously stabbing a sausage with his fork. Harry gave him a look but didn't say anything.

"Honestly, Ron, it wasn't that bad, I hardly even noticed the time," Hermione admitted. Ron ignored her, shoveling food into his mouth in his usual fashion. Not for the first time, Hermione felt a little repulsed by his eating habits, and picked up her toast, glancing as she did so at the head table. Snape was there, and apparently feeling her eyes on him his gaze flickered briefly in her direction. She gave him a small, tentative smile. He nodded only so very slightly, then returned his attention to his own plate.

After breakfast, they made their way to Potions, where Ron, still angry about Snape having made her stay so late (she hadn't told him yet that she'd be going back tonight—she might use the library as an excuse), sat and did his work in stormy silence. Shaking her head, Hermione set about completing her work silently. Neville was seated next to Harry today, who wasn't really much help to him. As usual, his potion was a complete disaster. At the end of the period, Snape wandered around, checking their progress. After taking points from Gryffindor for the mess in Ron's cauldron, he moved on to Hermione's. Though he said nothing, Hermione saw him mark an "O" next to her name, and hid a smile as they packed up and headed for Herbology.

"That lousy git. My potion was still better than Crabbe's," Ron complained. "And he didn't take points from Slytherin, oh, no."

"He never does," Hermione said patiently. "He's Snape."

"True," Harry agreed. "Let it go, Ron." But Ron for whatever reason was in a decidedly foul temper, and remained so for the rest of the day. It was with no small amount relief that Hermione excused herself from the common room that evening, saying she needed to use the library. Ron didn't even look up, he was busy writing the essay Snape had set him.

This time the door was open when she entered Snape's office, and she knocked anyway. He glanced up and his gaze softened at once.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Good." He waved her into her seat, the cauldron and ingredients ready for her. He handed her a piece of parchment with the instructions in his familiar handwriting and she set to work at once, silently. They worked together amiably enough, tonight, and when her potion needed to simmer for a few minutes she looked up. He came around the desk to check her progress, leaning over with a hand on the small of her back to peer into the bubbling cauldron.

"Excellent," he said at once, seemingly unaware of their closeness. Hermione, who could feel the warmth of his hand even through her robes, was most definitely aware of him. "You'll want to chop those roots just a little finer, though, and stir counter-clockwise. Yes, I know my instructions say otherwise, but I have found it produces better results," he told her as she opened her mouth to protest. Hermione nodded, settling back in her chair. After she finished chopping the roots finer, she added them, and the potion needed to simmer longer so she pulled a book out of her bag as Snape returned to his desk and reached for a stack of homework assignments from his third-years.

Dumbledore entered the office ten minutes later. With a nod to Hermione, who smiled in greeting, he approached Snape's desk.

"Severus, I'll need you to brew up a batch of werewolf potion for Remus. He's running low," Dumbledore said. Snape nodded.

"I was thinking of having Miss Granger here attempt a cauldronfull tomorrow. Has he enough to last til then?"

"I believe he does," Dumbledore said. "I have little doubt in Miss Granger's ability. I'm sure she'll do well, with your aid, Severus," the Headmaster nodded confidently, and Hermione reddened in spite of herself, under the watchful and surprisingly affectionate gazes of both the Headmaster and Snape. Werewolf potion! Lupin had said that it was a fairly recent discovery, and a difficult potion to brew correctly. Snape believed her up to the task?

"I'll do my best, Headmaster," she said at last, realizing they were expecting a response from her. "Thank you."

"Of that, Miss Granger, I have come to expect nothing less from you," Dumbledore said fondly, and then turned and strode from the office. Snape settled back in his chair, regarding her over steepled fingers.

"Do you really think I'm ready for that level, Professor?" she asked.

"Yes," he said after a moment. "The last two potions I have had you make have been no less difficult in their intensity and you have done very well. Yes, I think werewolf potion is an excellent challenge for you," he said. "And I have little doubt that you will accomplish the task successfully."

"Thank you, Sir," she said, glowing from the sudden and unexpected praise. They spent the rest of the evening in silence, and once again Snape walked her back to her common-room, as it was well past curfew.

"Good night, Professor," she said at last, when neither of them made any move to be the first to depart. Snape nodded.

"Until tomorrow, then," he said. She nodded, gave the password to the Fat Lady, and climbed through the portrait hole. Ron and Harry were up this time, playing wizard's chess in the corner by the fire.

"Have you been in the library all this time?" Harry asked in surprise, glancing at her in surprise.

"No," she confessed. "I... needed to talk to Professor Vector about my arithmancy assignment," she said. Ron looked disbelieving, but didn't say anything. Hermione said goodnight and climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

"Get the feeling she's not telling us something?" Ron asked as she disappeared from view. Harry nodded.

"Queen to E6," he said. "Check."


	9. Chapter 9

Part IX  
note: A couple of errors I just couldn't let go corrected from the version first posted.  
Disclaimers, etc., in part 1

Hermione spent most of the next day in the library until it was time to head down to see Snape. She was beginning to think that Ron suspected she wasn't in the library and that accounted for his bad mood. She was beginning to enjoy these quiet evenings in Snape's office and had gotten more studying done while working on his potions than she had all of third year, even with her time-turner. Tonight Snape didn't even look up as she entered the office and set to work, carefully measuring ingredients and setting the potion to simmer away. Coming around his desk he peered in to check on the color of the liquid smoking away in her cauldron.

"Well done, Hermione," he said, using her first name for the first time since summer. She glanced at him in surprise. "Quite impressive indeed." Not for the first time, there was pride in his startling black eyes.

"Thank you, Sir," she said quietly.

"You know, if these evenings are going to continue, you might... call me Severus, but only when we're alone, understand?" he asked. She smiled.

"Yes, S—Severus," she said, stopping herself from addressing him as "Sir" and using his first name as instructed. He nodded.

"Better." He paused. "And if you ever use my first name in class, I assure you, it will be twenty points from Gryffindor," he said. She nodded.

"I understand," she promised.

"Good." Glancing at her watch she added the next ingredients, carefully stirring the potion as she did so. It turned silver.

"Very good," he said approvingly. "Yes, that will do nicely. Now it needs to simmer for twelve hours," he said, turning down the flame. His hand brushed hers as he moved to do so and Hermione couldn't help it—she gasped as the jolt of electricity traveled up her arm. Though he stiffened, he made no other acknowledgment that anything had passed between them—much less enough electrical energy to run a coffee-pot. As he turned back to her, though, his gaze locked on hers. Then, almost regretfully he looked away, and the moment was broken.

"I will check on this through the night," he said. "I think it wise if you do not come tomorrow, Miss Granger. I shall be leaving following your potions class and shall not be returning until the following evening," he said. "You may come then, if you wish."

"I do," she said quietly. "Is it—_him_?" she asked softly. He heard the real fear in the girl's voice—fear for _him_—and Snape decided to respect that. He hesitated, then told her the truth.

"Yes," he confessed. "I've been summoned."

"Why?" she blurted before she could stop herself. Expecting to be told off, she was surprised when he again answered truthfully. It was, she realized, a sign of the level of comfort hey had achieved with one another over the past three evenings.

"I... do not know," he said.

"Severus," she said, still wrapping her mind around the permission she'd been granted to use his first name. "Are you... afraid?"

He was silent for a moment, and she was afraid he wasn't going to answer when he spoke, very softly.

"Perhaps... a little." She wondered when he'd last admitted to being afraid—but then, Voldemort _had_ nearly killed him.

"May I... may I be here when you return? Just in case?" she said softly. He regarded her for a moment, and then, at last, he nodded.

"Very well. I shall send for you when I return," he said.

"Thank you." In a moment of bravery she reached out to place a hand over his. She wasn't sure what to expect—in fact, she expected if anything he would jerk away—but he made no effort to withdraw from her touch, and even after a moment's hesitation, turned his hand and clasped hers, suddenly and tightly. This time it wasn't a shock that traveled up her arm as before—but a pleasant, tingling warmth, that mirrored the sudden grateful affection in his gaze. She realized that there probably hadn't been anyone there for him after these sessions with Voldemort, for a very long time. If there ever had been anyone. Suddenly her heart ached for him and she squeezed his hand, returning the strength of his grip.

"It's getting late. This will be fine." He indicated the potion, releasing her hand. She immediately missed his warmth. "You should return to your common room." Hermione stood then, gathering her bag and putting away the ingredients she hadn't used, then bade him goodnight and left his office. Voldemort. For a moment she leaned against the wall in the hallway, remembering the broken, tortured Snape she'd been summoned to heal last summer, blood staining his shirt, and she ached with fear for him. She would, one way or the other, be there when he returned.


	10. Chapter 10

Part X

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked quietly. For the past ten minutes, she'd been staring out the window, not focusing on the work in front of her, watching the sky grow dark. He'd be there now, dressed like a Death Eater, kneeling before Lord Voldemort, and maybe... being tortured. Her heart ached at the very thought of what he could be going through, right now. Harry was watching closely and seen something of the aching sadness in her eyes. She was suddenly grateful that Ron was looking for books for the particularly nasty Transfiguration essay McGonagall had set them, that he was, of course, not finished-so she was alone with Harry, who despite his obvious dislike of Snape and what he'd been going through since Voldemort's return the previous year, Hermione was suddenly certain that he would understand.

"It's Snape, isn't it? Something's up with him." Her eyes went wide.

"How did you--" Hermione began, and Harry pulled the Maurauder's Map from his robes.

"Map," he said. "I've seen you in his office, real late, the last few nights. There... is there something going on between you?" he asked.

"No," Hermione said softly. "But he's been... different. Softer, somehow... and he's been having me assist him with potion-making for the Order. I made Lupin a batch of werewolf potion yesterday—and he said it was perfect."

"Is that why you've been so worried today? In case... you made a mistake?" Harry had no doubt in his mind that Snape would have abruptly told her in his usual fashion had the potion not been drinkable.

"No," she said honestly, after a moment. "He's been... summoned. He'll have left after Potions—he's there now," she said quietly.

"Voldemort?" Harry asked. Ginny had told him about Hermione's vigil at Snape's side, and Harry knew Ron suspected that more was going on... but of that, Harry was certain thanks to the Map, there was not.

"Yes." To both their surprise, Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes—and Harry reached over and wrapped his arms around her, holding her. It was not, she realized suddenly, the embrace of someone who cared for her romantically, and never would be... but one friend, or even a brother, comforting another.

"He's strong, Hermione. He's been through this before. He'll be all right."

"I know," she said quietly. "But last time _he_ nearly killed him," she added softly, fear suddenly obvious. Harry nodded.

"I know." Her eyes widened in surprise. "Ginny," Harry said, reddening. Hermione nodded. Though she still felt shaky and near tears, she felt determinedly better than she had even a few minutes before, and she was grateful for her friends, not for the first time. She only wished Ron would react anywhere near as grown-up, not questioning her word that there was nothing else going on—but she knew he wouldn't. His hatred of Snape was such that it would only become more intense if he had any idea how she felt about him, and that her feelings for him were changing. And heaven forbid he should learn of the... attraction, or at the very least chemistry, between them. Now there was more... trust. He trusted her. Hermione went back to work on her own essay, even smiled when Ron, hidden behind a stack of heavy books, tripped on his way back through the portrait hole.

"Shut up, Harry," he complained as Harry laughed at him. Still smiling, Hermione gathered her books and headed up the stairs—she didn't want to answer questions from Ron tonight.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Hermione picked at her plate. McGonagall came down the aisle, on her way to the staff table, and placed a hand on her shoulder. _She knows,_ Hermione realized. Snape must have told her. Hermione glanced at her head of house and nodded gratefully, aware without even looking at the head table that Snape was not in the room.

"Is there—any word?" she asked softly.

"Not yet," McGonagall said sadly, and continued on. Hermione didn't have to ask to know that her professor was just as worried about Snape as she was.

It was nearing ten the following night when the portrait hole opened and McGonagall came in. Hermione was seated in the corner with Harry and Ron, who were as usual playing chess. She looked up.

"Professor?" she asked.

"A word, if you please, Miss Granger," she said, and the tight-lipped look of concern in her eyes told Hermione at once that something was wrong. Scurrying to her feet Hermione paused only to grab her wand and then followed the head of her house to the hospital wing, as fast as she could walk.

"How bad is it?" she panted.

"Bad," McGonagall said. "Certainly as bad as last time," she added she paused in her hurried stride, giving Hermione a look. "He was semi-conscious this time. He asked for you." Hermione nodded, fighting the tears threatening to overwhelm her.

"We've—we're closer, somehow, than before. Since last time," Hermione said.

"Do you care for him?" McGonagall asked.

"Would I be here if I didn't?" Hermione asked more harshly than she intended, offended. McGonagall sighed.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger. I've just never seen him show this kind of affection for any student before, even his own. To show it to a Gryffindor is unheard of. It strikes me as odd."

"The only way I can explain it—is the connection that tends to form when one saves another's life," she confessed. McGonagall gave her a long look and then nodded. "I don't pretend to understand it myself... but I know that I'll be here. If he'll let me," she added softly. McGonagall nodded, wondering if the girl was aware at all of the bond forming between her and Snape. With his skills in Occlumency, McGonagall guessed it would be only a small amount of time before they were able to silently communicate, regardless of distance.

At last they reached the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey was bending over a clearly unconscious, black-robed figure, Professor Dumbledore standing at a respectful distance, watching. The headmaster looked up as they approached and gave Hermione a kind smile.

"Headmaster, will he-"

"I think he'll be fine, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "But he—he needs you, you know." The headmaster gave her a stern look. "If I did not know how hard it is for Severus to trust anyone, there is no way in the world I would ever condone such a union...but in this case, I think I may have to make an exception, especially since in only two years' time you will yourself be of age to make the choice. Though I would request that you not inform Professor Umbridge of this," Dumbledore said. Hermione smiled.

"Don't worry, Sir," she said softly. "I won't... and I'll be there for him, as much as he'll let me."

"Of that, Miss Granger, I have no doubt." Dumbledore gave her another small, kind, smile.

"Miss Granger, could you fetch a bottle of strong healing potion for me?" Madam Pomfrey asked without looking up, and Hermione hurried to do so.

* * *

The Very Long Night of Severus Snape—again. Hermione remained next to Snape, reading Dickens to him again (this time, Oliver Twist) through the night. McGonagall had said that she was excused from her lessons for the day, and Harry came to find her that afternoon.

"How is he?" he asked.

"Bad. There's been little change since last night," Hermione said softly. "Madam Pomfrey said that his spirit is debating whether or not it wants to live, or go..." her breath caught in her throat. "I can only hope we can convince him to stay," she said quietly. Harry looked down at Snape. He had never liked the mysterious potions master, but he'd never wished him harm, either. If Snape left—that probably left them with Umbridge to teach them.

"Don't go, Professor," Harry said quietly. He doubted whether Snape heard him, or would listen, but he said it anyway, and then left to find Ron to study, leaving Hermione alone at her vigil. Dobby appeared with a tray of food at dinner.

"Begging Miss's pardon," he said awkwardly. "Master Dumbledore sent this for miss."

"Thank him, please, Dobby," Hermione said, accepting the tray from the House Elf without even a word about Dumbledore using him to run errands. Dobby's wide eyes rested on Snape for a moment, and with a sympathetic murmur of—something, vanished with a crack. Hermione returned to her silent vigil, holding his hand.

"Please, Severus," she said quietly. "Don't go. I... I'd miss you terribly. I... still have so much to learn from you... and there's our new friendship. I don't want to lose that, either. Please... don't leave," she said, her head bent low, next to his ear. When she looked up again the room was empty. Funny—she thought she'd heard someone. She had not noticed Ron watching her, bent close to Snape, far closer than any student should ever be to her professor, injured or otherwise, and begging him not to leave her--nor did she see his face darken menacingly.

Author's Note: I'm painting Ron in a decidedly darker way than he's portrayed in the books—but given his apparent attraction to Hermione (and his jealousy about Viktor Krum and anyone else who could conceivably be in Hermione's life) I'm trying to show what his reaction would doubtless be to perceiving tension of a different kind between Hermione and Snape, given his attitude about Snape. I have no doubt he'd react with less than pleasure at best... I am trying to keep him as close to the canon character as I can, but since this is a relationship JKR has not explored, I have to do a little inventing. I hope I'm not veering too off course here!


	11. Chapter 11

Part XI

Severus woke slowly, aware of a soft welcome voice pleading with him not to leave. There had been other voices, familiar. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey. But the one voice that had convinced him to return to a world where he would almost certainly wake in pain was that of Hermione Granger. Severus didn't pretend to understand his sudden connection to the girl, but the fact was, this was the second time in six months he'd been tortured badly by the Dark Lord, and he'd woken to find her at his side. Her head was again next to him, as she slept. Again, he reached out to gently pull her hair back off her face so he could look at her. The movement woke her.

"Severus," she said quietly. "Madam Pomfrey! He's awake." With a muttered curse under his breath that he hadn't stopped her so that he could speak to her alone, Severus spent the next half hour patiently explaining to McGonagall and Dumbledore hwat had happened this time, undergoing Pomfrey's infernal poking and prodding, until at last they all left him alone with Hermione at his side.

"I can... leave if you wish," she said reluctantly, as though she did not want to.

"No. Stay," he commanded softly, and she settled back into her chair, taking his hand almost automatically. For a moment he stared down at their two joined hands, and then he gave a dry chuckle. She looked up.

"What?" she asked. He squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to it at once. "Oh!" she made a move to draw away, but he held her hand tightly.

"No need," he said at once. "I have no objection. It is only that... it has been some time since anyone at all wished to be close enough to me to touch me," he said. Why on earth had he just told her that? Snape cursed himself inwardly as her eyes softened with sympathy. His face darkened.

"If all this is is pity, Miss Granger, you can leave now. I have no desire for your pity!"

"It's not pity. You stupid man, I love you." The words were out before Hermione considered them, an automatic response that widened her own eyes when she realized what she had said. Love? Snape? Those were two words she had never even considered—and would certainly never, ever say to a teacher. But the moment they were out of her mouth in spite of the horror of having said them aloud—Hermione knew in her heart that they were true. She didn't know how it had happened—but it had, and she had no desire to withdraw the words now that they had been said. Snape was staring at her, his black eyes wide.

"Love?" The word was strangled. "Miss Granger, do not say such a thing unless--"

"Unless I mean it? Are you going to tell me that you haven't noticed how the air changes, even charges, when we're in the same room together? The electricity between us? Look, I don't pretend to know how it happened—I certainly didn't ask for it. But it is there, all the same, however it happened... and don't ask me to stop, because that won't happen," she said firmly. With that, Severus reached out and pulled her roughly to him, covering her lips with his own.

The first kiss was hesitant, tentative, as though both of them were nervous and trying to see if the other would pull away. Neither did, and so Severus deepened the kiss, and her lips opened willingly under his. As his tongue brushed her own a jolt of electricity shot through her, warmth spreading slowly through her as she snaked one arm up around his neck, then the other, and slowly, tentatively, kissed him back. It was a long moment before they drew apart, both of them aware they had just crossed a line and that there was no going back from there.

"Severus," she murmured softly.

"We shall have to discuss this at a later time, Miss Granger," Severus stated matter-of-factly. "I think it wise if you leave now." Seeing the stone-cold look back in his eyes but somehow aware it was walls of defense he put up, having shown emotion to her, he was now automatically withdrawing from her. Aching for him, wondering how many times he had tried to care for someone only to have his heart broken, Hermione was not certain what to do... and so, squeezing his hand that still held hers in spite of his conscious withdrawal, Hermione left the hospital wing, after letting Madam Pomfrey know she was leaving.

Once outside in the hall she leaned against the wall and raised her fingers to her still-tingling lips. _I kissed a teacher!_ Though Dumbledore had said something about making an exception, the fact was she had just broken about every rule in the book. Suddenly grateful that Harry and Ron would be out at Quidditch practice, she returned to the common room, glad that the excitement that she still felt—feelings Snape had stirred in her that she hadn't known she had. Viktor had kissed her, but never with the simplicity—the passion—that Severus just had. She was afraid that he was going to shut himself off from her, and she was suddenly determined. She wouldn't let him. And so, when she'd rested, bathed, eaten and gone to tomorrow's lessons, she would go back to the hospital wing. She knew there was no way in the world Madam Pomfrey would release him this time, regardless of how much he complained, until he had fully regained his strength—and so he wasn't going anywhere. He'd have to put up with her, whether he wanted to—or not.


	12. Chapter 12

Part XII

Following a nightmarish session of Defense Against the Dark Arts (which was of course followed by a meeting of the DA), Hermione told Harry and Ron that she was going to the library and took off in that direction, doubling back once they were out of sight and going to the hospital wing, where Snape was awake in his bed, propped up against pillows and reading, glasses perched on the end of his nose. He looked up as she entered.

"Hi," she greeted uncertainly.

"Hermione," he said quietly. She approached him hesitantly, but he hadn't told her to go away, so she took the empty chair at his side and looked at him for a moment.

"How... are you feeling?" she asked tentatively.

"As though I had been trampled by a great many large things... but I suspect I will live," he told her. She smiled a little in spite of everything.

"So what happens now?" she asked quietly. He was about to question what she meant when he realized he knew perfectly well to what she was referring. Their kiss.

"Miss Granger, there is no question. This cannot happen," he said. "I am still your teacher."

"I know," she said quietly. "I... can wait," she said after a moment. He glanced at her, seeing the sadness in her eyes.

"There is no need for you to wait for me," he said gruffly. She looked up in surprise.

"Yes, there is," she said. "I... I don't think I ever really even considered anyone else," she said. "Not that there has exactly been a lineup, but Viktor and I... it just didn't feel right. And as for Ron... there's no chance." She shuddered a little at the very idea. "This does. Feel right, I mean," she said, taking his hand. He squeezed hers in return.

"To me, as well," he confessed. "But there are complications, and you are well aware of that."

"I know," she said again. "But I still want to spend time with you—even if we can't...go farther than that," she said. Regarding her for a moment, marveling at this young woman and the prevailing sense that the feelings she spoke of were developed well beyond her years. All of her brilliance—and she wanted him.

"Very well," he said at last. "I see no reason why not. When I am out of here," he said quietly, "we will resume our evening sessions. I should... hopefully... not need to return to the Dark Lord again until summer. I told him that it would arouse Dumbledore's suspicions and threaten my position here," Snape said. "He didn't like it, but he agreed."

"Is that why he tortured you?"

"No. That was... just for kicks," Snape said bitterly. "He tortures each of us when he so chooses, even our friend Lucius," he said. Malfoy, of course. Hermione nodded, squeezing his hand again, unable to fathom the pain of undergoing torture at Voldemort's hands. They fell quiet, but still he held her hand as though grasping a lifeline.

* * *

When she returned to the common room in Gryffindor tower that night she found it was empty except for Ron.

"Been to visit Snape?" he asked menacingly. "That's where you were all day yesterday, isn't it?"

"I don't see that it's any business of yours, Ronald."

"You could have told us."

"I did. I told Harry. Obviously he didn't tell you for the same reason I didn't. Because he knew you'd handle it like a child." Hermione hurried up the stairs and out of sight before he could protest further. She felt tears burning behind her eyes and hated herself for reacting to him as she always did—it was small wonder they'd spent so much of their years at Hogwarts barely speaking-he was enough to drive anyone batty. Hermione sighed, changed and got into bed, her thoughts still in the hospital wing with Snape.

Ron was in an even worse mood the next morning at breakfast—so much so that Harry sat between them, trying to keep their conversation on the Quidditch match that afternoon.

"I bet she doesn't even come to the match," Ron said, jabbing a fork in Hermione's direction before stabbing a sausage with it. "She'll be too busy kissy-kissy with Snape."

"Oh, come off it, Ronald! Just because you've never snogged anyone in your life," Ginny said huffily, sitting down next to Hermione, who's face was red and her eyes were burning with humiliated tears. "Don't mind my brother, Hermione. He's just jealous because you're spending time with Snape and not with him."

"Snape at least appreciates my company," Hermione said coolly, finishing her toast. "I need to go to the library."

"Hermione, it's not even open yet! It's six in the morning," Harry protested.

"She's not going to the library," Ron said, his voice dripping with disgust. "She's going to the hospital wing and you know it."

"If she doesn't want to tell us, Ronald, that's her business," Ginny said as a hurt and humiliated Hermione flung out of the great hall.

She had managed to get herself under control by the time she reached the hospital wing five minutes later, and entered the wing quietly. Madam Pomfrey, who had been known to chase visitors out, nodded in her direction as she took her customary place next to Snape. He was awake, and greeted her with a smile that looked decidedly forced.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Fine. I... heard the conversation in the Great Hall, Hermione. You were broadcasting so loud a muggle might have been able to pick up your thoughts. Are you all right?" he asked, taking her hand. She sighed.

"Not really, but I should have expected nothing different," she confessed. "I shall be all right." She gave him a smile that was genuine this time. "I'm already feeling better."

"Good." Severus regarded her thoughtfully, aware that her presence was indeed decidedly more cheerful than it had been a moment ago.


	13. Chapter 13

Part XIII

Other than to attend classes Hermione didn't leave the hospital wing until he was released, near dinner that night. When she joined Harry and Ron at the table (pointedly sitting between Fred and Harry) Harry leaned over to ask about Snape when she glanced up as he entered the great hall through the door behind the staff table. They had walked together down from the hospital wing and he'd doubled back to use another entrance. Harry nodded.

"So that's why you're smiling," Harry teased.

"Yes, but don't tell Ronald," she said in his ear. She glanced up and was pleased to see that Snape's face had darkened slightly. Jealous, was he? Glancing down at her own plate she pointedly ignored him for the rest of dinner, and for the first time since summer, really, life seemed almost normal as they laughed and talked and Fred and George and Harry talked Quidditch tactics with Angelina. She even went back to the common room and studied there.

_Are you coming to my office?_ Snape's voice in her mind took her almost completely by surprise two hours later, when they'd set the books aside and Harry and Ron were playing chess. It was ten minutes to eight. With a quick _yes_ she wasn't sure if he had received, Hermione suddenly stood.

"I just remembered, I think I left my Potions textbook in the library," she said, getting up and leaving quickly. Ron glanced over the stack of books and frowned, holding up her Potions book for Harry to see. Harry couldn't help it—he grinned and pulled out the Marauders' Map, which showed Hermione heading down the stairs to the dungeons, and then into Snape's office. Again, Ron's face darkened noticeably.

"What's up with you, Ron? It's not like she's dating him," Harry said irritably. Ron's attitude about the whole thing was beginning to seriously bother him.

"It's just that—he's—well, he's _Snape!_" Ron spluttered. "If I didn't know Hermione better I'd swear she has a crush on the greasy git."

"I think that's between her and Snape, Ron," Harry said patiently, feeling like an exasperated parent.

"But—but—" furious and spluttering, Ron settled into the chair in the corner, glaring out the window. With a shake of his head, Harry went over to join Fred and George, who were demonstrating their latest inventions for their future joke shop.

* * *

Hermione smiled as she knocked on the open door of Severus's office. He looked up and indicated the chair she was already moving towards. The ingredients for the potion he wanted her to make were set up for her already, and she set to work. They talked as they worked, him, grading papers and catching up on lesson plans he hadn't been able to prepare, her, carefully measuring ingredients.

The next several weeks passed in this fashion. Though they carefully kept their distance from one another, he walked her back to the common room each night. Sometimes, she merely used his office as a quiet place to study... but she had learned so much from him, she was no longer so worried about upcoming OWLs. Ron had gradually given up trying to convince her that she was making a mistake (at last seeing that it was pointless) and was, mostly, back to his old self. Still, Hermione could not help but feel that something had to give in her relationship with Severus, and soon. They were at a turning point, closer than ever—it would be so easy to tip the balance one way or the other. A well-placed touch here, a kiss, shared in the dark of night on the way back to Gryffindor tower. She knew he felt it, too... and suspected that was why he remained resolutely behind his desk, hardly moving unless he needed to get something and usually he had her fetch it for him.

There was no small amount of frustration, with that. Hermione enjoyed these evenings, and she enjoyed their newfound closeness with each other. She had even begun to come to his office for tea during the day, when she could slip away from Harry and Ron unnoticed—when they were in Divination. She certainly didn't miss Professor Trelawney any—though she would probably have taken the class with Firenze, having dropped it in her third year she had no real desire to go back. That, and Parvati and Lavenders' annoyingly superior looks every time they came out of the class. Revolting.

But as the year drew towards its end, Hermione began spending less time with Severus and more time reviewing for OWLs, partly at his insistence and partly at her own desire to do well. He could help her so far as Potions went but beyond that, it was of more use for her to practice and with Charms—there was too much in his office that could be damaged should she make a mistake. That, and he had told her he would be going to Voldemort's service as soon as the year was out, heading for Spinner's End. There was something in his eyes that told Hermione that whatever was happening wasn't going to be good—but she knew he would tell her, in time... so she went home for two weeks and then spent the rest of the summer with Harry and Ron and the Weasley clan at the Burrow.


	14. Chapter 14

Part XIV

Three weeks after their return to Hogwarts, Hermione gave up on waiting for an invitation and went down to Severus's office. They'd not spoken since his new position had been announced at the feast; she had known how badly he wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job but somehow since classes had begun Severus had seemed darker, and she was concerned about him. Something was up, and he was deliberately avoiding being alone with her. She was worried about him.

"Severus?" Hermione asked timidly. He looked up, and his stern expression softened at once.

"Hi," he greeted, coming around his desk to sit on the edge of it. He reached out for her hand and she gave it, and he pulled her to him for a gentle embrace. "I know I shouldn't be doing this," he said in her ear, sending pleasant warm shivers down her spine. "But I've missed you. We haven't spoken since last term, except in Defense, and you haven't even stayed behind."

"I wasn't sure you wanted me to," she confessed. "You've been... different. Back to your old self, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Necessity," he confessed. "The Dark Lord has spies everywhere. Hermione, I'm not certain who is loyal to Dumbledore anymore, and who isn't," he said, and there was such a forlorn note in his voice that Hermione hugged him. Hard.

"It's going to be all right," she said softly. "As long as Dumbledore's around, it's going to be all right."

"Hermione, I think someone is trying to kill Dumbledore," Severus said softly. "I have my suspicions who, but we cannot make accusations unless we have absolute proof, and whoever it is has been very careful not to leave any."

"You think it's on orders from You-Know-Who?" she asked, fear obvious in her voice.

"I think it has to be. Who else would want the headmaster gone, but someone loyal to him?"

"Is it Slughorn?" Hermione asked, coming up with the first new face in the school, someone she still wasn't quite certain she trusted. Severus shook his head adamantly.

"No. Aside from the fact that Slughorn's attempt would hardly be so blatantly obvious as these attacks on students, it's not his style. He was in Slytherin, yes, but he's no murderer." Hermione was surprised to hear him speak so of his own beloved house, and said so. Severus snorted.

"If you don't mind my saying so, Miss Granger, the average intellect of about ninety per cent of my house works out to about the brain capacity of a troll," he said. Hermione giggled, smothered by his robes, as he was still holding her and she had buried her face in his chest to avoid laughing out loud and betraying her presence in his office to any curious passers-by.

"Mr. Malfoy included?" she asked softly. Severus chuckled then, for the first time since she had known him, and the rich baritone warmth of the sound filled the room.

"Indeed," he said, still smiling. "Now, Miss Granger, I believe it is nearing your curfew. Off with you," he commanded, pointing towards the door. "I do hope you'll return tomorrow."

"Of course I will," she said, and he ushered her out. Still smiling, she returned to the common room, where Ron and Harry were studying by the fire. Ron looked annoyed when he took one look at her face, the brightness in her eyes that hadn't been there since she'd last seen him last June, and returned his books, his face darkened, but he made no comment.

Author's note: Meh. Short. But, I wanted to include this scene—and Sev and Hermione talking on such a casual level. I'm trying to lead back into the opener slowly, so that I can resolve the story eventually. More to come!


	15. Chapter 15

Part XIV

A/N: So sorry it's taken so long to post this. I wasn't able to get into the site since I posted chapter 14. Hopefully it will let me in today long enough to post this.

She had returned the next day, and every day after that—and that was why, in light of all that had happened tonight, Hermione was so devastated. The one kiss they had shared was not the touch of a villain or a murderer, but a warm, caring man who loved her very much. He'd told her of his Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy to protect Draco, and it had warmed her heart that he would do such a thing to protect his own student. It was the kind of man she had come to realize he was, in spite of his cold exterior. He was anything but cold.

Which was why she did not understand why he had done what he had done tonight. Why had he killed the Headmaster? If what Harry said was true (and despite his dislike of Snape Hermione had no reason to suspect that it wasn't), it was Severus who had uttered the killing curse. Why? For that matter, how? Hermione did not understand any of this. The worst of it was that he had left with the Death Eaters, and she had no way of knowing what he could be going through now.

Trust me, Hermione, came the now-familiar voice in her mind. It will be clear soon enough.

_You _**killed**_ Dumbledore,_ she returned. _How am I supposed to trust you now?_

_I saved him a very painful death, Hermione. The headmaster knew what was expected of me when I made that vow with Narcissa. The stuff meant to protect the Dark Lord's Horcrux was meant as an agonizing punishment to anyone other than the Dark Lord who tried to get at it. That's why he wanted Harry with him—to get the Horcrux back to the castle before Voldemort could come for it. He could not have known it would be a fake. Only the Dark Lord knows the spell to make the poison safe._

_Then you know about that. The fake. _Somehow she wasn't surprised.

_I'm an Occlumens, Hermione. Harry never finished his lessons,_ he said patiently, as though explaining a problem with one of the potions in class.

_Of course,_ she returned. _When are you coming back?_

_Do you think for a moment I will be permitted to return to Hogwarts? I thought better of your intelligence than that, Miss Granger._ His presence in her mind had turned cold.

_But-- _she didn't dare question their relationship, but he figured it out anyway, and she felt the warmth of his presence return.

_We'll find a way, Hermione. When the explanation comes out—provided I don't land myself in Azkaban. For now, remember what the Headmaster said. As long as some remain who are loyal to him he has never, truly, left the school. He will be there. As for us--we'll make it happen. The Order knows more about what is going on than they have allowed you to believe. On that, I can only ask you to trust me—and to respect what we have come to know about each other. You know me better than you think, my dear._

Hermione wasn't sure what to believe, but she brushed her mind against his—a mental hug—all the same, and felt him return it.

_Now I must go, my Hermione. The Dark Lord is a powerful Occlumens himself as you well know, and I cannot trust that he is not in my mind. I would never deliberately place you in harm's way and to allow him to discover what we've found in each other would be to do exactly that. Again I will ask you to trust me._ His mind caressed hers once more, and then he was gone, and suddenly Hermione felt very, very alone, as she listened to Fawkes's mournful song.


	16. Chapter 16

Part 16  
The end—and new beginnings.

A/N: Sorry again for the delay in getting this up, and my thanks to all for reviewing—and sticking with me. Yay—it's done!! I'm carefully being general about their seventh year at Hogwarts, as I have tried to stay as close to canon as possible—and we don't know what canon is for year seven yet! I'm going to assume that He Who Must Not Be Named has been defeated, but beyond that—no assumptions. Disclaimers, etc. in part 1.

The following summer, lonely and depressed, Hermione Granger boarded the Hogwarts Express for the last time. She was returning home to see her parents once more before taking a job as a Ministry Auror. It was with some surprise that her parents were not there waiting when she got off the train—but someone else was. She could not see him—but she felt his presence at once, a presence in her mind she'd not felt since the night Dumbledore was killed.

_Where are you?_ She asked him. _And—where are my parents?_

_It seems there was a miscommunication in the day classes ended. They received a letter asking if they could come to the trains to collect you tomorrow, instead of today,_ came the reply. _Twenty-four hours if you'll see me—if not, I'll have someone from the Ministry take you home._ There was a brief hesitancy in that last part. _I hope you'll let me explain everything, Hermione. Take the Knight Bus to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place._ Sure enough, she looked up and saw Stan Shunpike, recently cleared and released from Azkaban prison, waiting to take her trunk. He greeted her warmly, and she paid him.

"No need. Your fare has already been covered. Grimmauld Place, it is," he said cheerfully, waving her wizard's gold away. She boarded the bus, there was a loud BANG, and a few moments later they were rattling down the old familiar street.

"Hermione!" Molly Weasley greeted her at the door, giving her school trunk a feather-light spell and using her wand to move it to the top of the stairs. "We'll deal with that later." Mrs. Weasley embraced her. "They're in the living room."

"They?"

"You'll see." Hermione frowned at Molly—then carefully opened the French doors and into the living room—and gasped.

Albus Dumbledore was seated comfortably on the sofa, and Severus Snape in an overstuffed armchair. She stared at the latter, her mouth moving, but no sound coming out—and finally turned her attention back to the Headmaster, who was watching her with amusement twinkling in his blue eyes.

"Headmaster!" She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist—before she even realized what she was doing. Chuckling, Dumbledore hugged her back.

"I am very proud of all you have accomplished, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "You will make a fine Auror indeed."

"Professor Dumbledore—how--why--I--" there was a flash of bright flame and Fawkes landed on Hermione's shoulder. Dumbledor chuckled warmly again.

"Severus came to me in the summer just prior to your sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione. He told me of a promise he'd made to Narcissa Malfoy to protect her son from the Dark Lord, and that it meant he would very likely have to complete the task that had been set before Draco himself. Draco is many things, Hermione, but we knew he was not capable of killing me, and had no desire to do so. So, Severus and I devised a plan—to make it appear that he had been successful—and to allow me to retreat to protected care at St. Mungo's to restore the nearly deadly damage to my right hand." He stretched out his arm and Hermione saw that his hand had been fully restored—and that Voldemort's horcrux ring, now just a ring, still adorned it. "I believed that Harry could not fully defeat the Dark Lord until he believed once and for all that I was dead, and at Voldemort's hands at that. My apologies for turning his anger towards Severus in the process—I will confess that we played on your belief all these years that Severus had not turned completely to our side—it aided our purpose and helped to convince Voldemort that Severus was in fact loyal to him. I assure you, Miss Granger, that he acted on my orders alone, and that you may trust him entirely." Dumbledore smiled warmly again. "Now, Miss Granger, I would suggest you go to him at once. If you will excuse me, I must assist Molly in convincing the Ministry that I am in fact alive." He gave her a hug once more, and left the room, leaving her alone with Snape.

"I asked that you trust me. Now do you see why?" Severus asked. With a stifled sob of joy, Hermione went to him at once, and for the first time in more than a year his mouth closed over hers, and she snaked her arms up around his neck.

"Severus," she murmured when their lips parted. "I love you," she breathed. He stared at her, black eyes glittering, for a long moment, as though trying to see in her eyes if what she said was true. Evidently he found what he was looking for, because he drew her to him and kissed her again. Picking her up, he carried her up the stairs and into the room that had been hers for so long the summer this had all begun.

---

Hermione woke, slowly, feeling warm and content and comfortable in Severus's arms. He still lay beside her, caressing her cheek.

"Now that you are not, and never will be again, my student—I see no reason why we cannot be together," he said. "Hermione—will you marry me?" he asked. If anything could have made this moment more perfect it was this—and Hermione smiled through suddenly-watery eyes.

"Yes." Severus bent and kissed her again—the pain of loneliness of the past year subsiding at last.

The End!!


End file.
